Back home,
lying down after a nightly walk,
the sky transforms,
a ceiling lit with holiday fireworks,
a web of little light bulbs
that flicker into shapes,
I see a a kite, and a smaller kite,
things unseen in the dim of the city.

Yet, I still feel lonely,
in the city,
Or in the corner streets I once knew.
I rise and walk
towards a home I once called home.

Each step, heavy with melancholy,
Some share the rythm.
Hands buried in my pockets,
holding on tightly,
somehow,
to my heart.